Dina Santorelli Read online

  Jamie sat down and placed the little girl on her lap. She stuck her hand into the box, grabbed a handful of Cheerios, and placed them on a napkin in front of the baby, who grabbed at them, shoving them into her mouth. She put so many in that Jamie was afraid she was going to choke.

  "Easy, easy," she said. "Slow down."

  "Don't mess up my computer," Bailino said, unpeeling a banana and kicking Tony's chair.

  "I'm not messing it up," Tony said, "I'm on Facebook. You said to do the things we normally do."

  "Fine, just don't be like that nitwit in Louisiana they tracked down." He put a key into an electronic lock on the glass back doors, which, Jamie noticed, was the same as the lock on the upstairs bedroom door. There was a soft click, and Bailino slid the glass door open and stepped outside.

  "I'm not a wanted man," Tony muttered under his breath.

  "That's for sure," Leo said, which made Benny laugh again.

  "You better quit laughing, you fuck," Tony said and then got up and went into the kitchen to grab a box of Pop-Tarts from the cabinet. "Anybody else want one?"

  Benny and Leo's hands went up.

  The little girl started to say something, but her mouth was full of crumbs. She clapped her hands with her fingertips pressing together.

  "Yay," Jamie whispered and poured more Cheerios onto her napkin, stealing another glance at the computer. All she needed was thirty seconds to log onto her profile and get out a quick message, but she could feel Leo's eyes on her, and she averted her gaze and looked out the glass back doors.

  "How do you spell judgment?" Benny asked Joey, who appeared lost in music, his head nodding up and down.

  "Joey, I'm talkin' to you!" Benny pulled the book out of his hands.

  Joey blinked and took off his headphones. "What?"

  "Judgment. How do you spell it?"

  "J-U-D-G-E-M-E-N-T, you moron," said Leo from the living room.

  "There's no e," Joey said, putting his headphones back on.

  "What do you mean there's no fuckin' e? You mean the one after the g? That can't be right," Leo said.

  "I think he's right, Leo," Benny said, looking at the newspaper. "There's only eight boxes for the letters, so it fits without the e."

  "Would you look at that?" Leo stood up and wandered over to the dining room table. "Did you know that, Sunshine? That the word judgment only has one e?"

  Jamie pretended to assist the baby by flattening and reflattening the creases of her onesie.

  "Yo, I'm talkin' to you," Leo said, getting closer, when Bailino stepped back into the house.

  "What a fuckin' day out there. Gorgeous. Gotta be 70 degrees."

  "Now what the fuck you doin'?" Leo said, watching Tony unscrew a bottle of powdered cinnamon.

  "Did you know that sniffing cinnamon actually boosts brainpower?" Tony said.

  "Really? Maybe you should pour the whole thing on your head."

  "Oh, you're in rare form today, Leo," Tony said, handing him a Pop-Tart, and then tossing one in front of Benny before sitting back at the computer.

  "You eat?" Bailino asked Jamie.

  Jamie shook her head no. "I'm not hungry."

  "You should eat," Bailino said. "What do you want?"

  "I'll just take an apple."

  "Good." Bailino took an apple from a fruit basket and pulled out a stool next to her. "I have to leave here for a few hours to take care of some things." He rubbed the apple on his slacks until the sides developed a dull sheen and handed it to Jamie. "I expect you to watch this child, to keep her quiet and happy. Understand?"

  Jamie nodded.

  "I asked you if you understood."

  "Yes," Jamie said.

  "Good girl," Bailino said, squeezing her chin.

  "You want to take her for a walk?" Joey had taken off his headphones and was speaking to Jamie.

  "Outside?" Jamie asked with a hint of enthusiasm. She took a bite of the apple, while the child pushed Cheerios around the counter with her hands.

  "Yeah, she could probably use the sunlight," Joey said.

  Jamie looked at Bailino, who nodded his approval.

  "Give me a second. I just want to log out," Tony said, typing at the keyboard.

  "You don't have to log off," Joey said.

  "And leave her with you?" Leo said. "You've gotta be kidding."

  "They'll be fine," Bailino said, slipping on a jacket.

  "Yeah, well, I'll be watching from the back," Leo said to Jamie. "So don't get any ideas. That would be bad judgment."

  With the baby in her arms, Jamie followed Joey outside, and it was as if she'd entered Oz: Birds were singing, the colors seemed brighter, and there was a slight morning breeze. Even the baby let out a tiny coo as she blinked her eyes in the sunlight, and then she straightened her body in Jamie's arms.

  "What's the matter?" Jamie asked and then realized the little girl wanted to be put down. She placed her on the ground, and her bent legs stood tentatively, wobbling. Jamie tried to hold her hands, but she pulled them away and tried to take a step on her own, then toppled over.

  "I'll help you," Jamie said, grabbing both hands and pulling the child up to a stand. The little girl pushed her tiny socked feet forward while Jamie held her and started walking across the manicured lawn.

  From inside, Bailino and Leo watched them.

  "Stay away from her," Bailino said, his eyes on Jamie.

  "What, only you can have all the fun?"

  "You think I think this is fun?" Bailino took a sip of his coffee and set the cup down on the counter. "I have better things to do."

  "Oh, really? Like what? Accept another award, maybe?"

  Bailino ignored him. "I have to go. You think you can handle things while I'm gone."

  "Oh, yes," Leo said with sarcasm. "Who took care of your mess last night?"

  "That wasn't my mess."

  "Oh, no? So is that your mess out there?" Leo pointed at Jamie.

  "Listen, Leo, we have to put up with each other for a few days. Let's just do it and get it over with, and we can be on our way."

  "Fine by me."

  Bailino grabbed his keys and walked out the back door.

  "I'll be back soon," Bailino called out to Jamie, who watched him hop into a white Ford Flex and pull out of the driveway. The little girl stopped to examine a ladybug, and Jamie stood up and stretched—her back was hurting from hunching over. Joey, who was a few steps ahead, took the headphones out of his ears.

  "You all right?" he asked.

  She nodded. "You're Joey, right?"

  Joey looked back at the house. He kicked a small rock.

  "Just keep your head down, do what they say, and you'll get out of this thing," he whispered.

  His words surprised her. She glanced at Leo who was still watching them from the back door. "I don't think so." Jamie could feel her eyes water. "After what I saw?"

  "You just have to keep quiet. Can you do that?"

  Charlotte reached for Jamie's hands, and she picked up the little girl, who continued walking along the grass.

  "I don't know," Jamie said. "I don't know if I can do that."

  "You'd be surprised at what you can do."

  Jamie studied the young man. He reminded her a little of Edward, tall and pale, with a long neck and sprinkling of freckles on his nose and cheeks. He kept blowing the hair out of his eyes, but his bangs would always fall back down. They walked for a few minutes in silence.

  "Who are you listening to?" she asked.

  "Switchfoot. Do you know them?"

  "Sure, I've heard of them. Kind of like an alternative rock band, right?"

  "Yep. They have this new sound ever since they broke with their record company." There was genuine enthusiasm in Joey's voice. "What do you listen to?"

  "Oh, nothing special." Her thoughts turned to Bob, who liked to call her Ms. Top Forty, because her musical tastes were so cliché and uninteresting.

  "No, serious. There's gotta be someone you really like."

&n
bsp; Jamie shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know... Pink?"

  "Pink's cool." Joey smiled. "Kind of a badass, but feminine too, you know?" He looked toward the cabin; they were about a city-street block's worth of distance from the glass doors. "We should turn back."

  "It's nice around here," Jamie said, ignoring him. She wanted to stay as far away from the cabin as possible and keep surveying the area. The woods stretched as far as the eye could see—an openness lacking in her Long Island suburb where backyards resembled little fiefdoms, cordoned off with their six-foot-high PVC fences. She often dreamt of living in a place like this where she could stroll unwatched by neighbors and collect her thoughts, maybe write. But now the woods felt too open and clandestine, as if she were floating in space away from civilization, and no one could hear her scream.

  "I prefer the city, actually." Joey shrugged his shoulders. "It's so... I don't know, boring here."

  "Do you live here all the time?" Jamie asked.

  "No, I don't live here. Uncle Don does."

  They came upon a large vegetable garden with segmented square plots, each with a different handwritten sign: tomatoes, basil, green peppers, oregano. Small white stones dotted the edges of the garden, which measured about eight feet around.

  "This is nice," Jamie said.

  "Yeah, it's Uncle Don's," Joey said without much enthusiasm. "He likes to grow things." He turned back toward the house again.

  "He likes to garden?"

  "Yeah, among other things," Joey said. "C'mon, we really have to go back."

  Jamie got the urge to run, to grab the baby and just go and see what would happen. She knew south was straight ahead of her, but she feared that with the baby in tow, Joey would catch up to them in no time or worse, Leo and the others would. But maybe Joey would let them leave, she reasoned, maybe he'd just turn around and walk back. He seemed like a nice enough kid. She wanted to plead with him, to look into his eyes and tell him to have pity on her and to let her go. But Jamie knew he wouldn't. There was fear in his eyes too.

  "C'mon, we need to go back," Joey said, trying to make his voice a little sterner, as if he were trying to be more like his Uncle Don.

  Deflated, Jamie turned to go back when the little girl, who'd been walking along quietly the whole time, decided to drop Jamie's hands. She stood there before the vegetable garden like a queen before her court.

  "C'mon, honey," Jamie said. She reached for her hand, but the little girl pulled away.

  Joey crouched down. "C'mon, we have to go," he said in a quiet voice. "Be a good girl, Charlotte."

  Charlotte.

  Jamie didn't react. Joey didn't realize that he'd said the little girl's name. He was still trying to cajole her into going back, but Jamie's mind was racing. Charlotte. Charlotte. Charlotte. And then it hit her. Those blonde curls. About a year old. Upstate New York.

  Charlotte Grand. The governor's daughter.

  Suddenly all the press releases that had inundated her in-box for ten months flooded back into her memory. The pregnancy announcement. The "It's a Girl" ultrasound. Jamie could still picture the photo of the governor and Mrs. Grand on the balcony of Milton Hospital holding the newborn baby, all smiles and waving. Saturday Night Live had even done a parody of the press photo, likening it to the infamous Michael Jackson/Blanket video footage from Germany years before.

  Without warning, Charlotte made a run for it. She ran a good five or six steps, but her little legs were moving too fast for the rest of her body, and her knees buckled outward as if she had just gotten off a horse. She fell face-first into a patch of unplanted dirt. The wailing started immediately, and the three men—Leo, Benny, and Tony—reached them in seconds. I would have never made it, Jamie thought.

  The men stopped when they saw the reason for the cries and collectively caught their breath.

  "Jesus, Joey," Tony said. "I was in the middle of a hand of online poker."

  "All right, leave the kid alone," Leo said. "The baby fell. What do you want?"

  "It was a good hand, too," Tony said as the three men headed back to the cabin.

  "Let's play some real poker, not that fairy kind," Leo said.

  "Sure, I'll take your money, Leo," Tony said. "Benny, you in?"

  Benny nodded.

  "No problem," said Leo. He called to Joey. "Let's go. Playtime's over. Back to the house."

  The dirt was so loose where Charlotte had fallen that when she lifted her head, her face was covered—there was dirt in her mouth, in her hair, and in her eyelashes. Jamie stood the little girl up and bent down to brush her off.

  "You're okay," Jamie soothed. "It's all right." Crouched down, Jamie could hear the sound of running water again, like when she had first arrived the day before. Charlotte must have heard it too, because her head turned. It was close by.

  "She really likes you," Joey said, standing over them.

  Charlotte crouched down and started pushing the loose dirt around with her hands. With her index finger, she drew swirls and patted down the earth. Then she was on all fours, using both hands.

  "We have to go now," Joey said. He was giving Jamie a look that said they had no other choice. She picked Charlotte up when the little girl suddenly exclaimed, "MaBa! MaBa!" She fought to get down, stiffening her body, but Jamie held Charlotte firmly and followed her gaze: There was a small yellow shrub at the corner of the patch of dirt that had gotten the little girl's attention. Jamie reached down to pick it up.

  "No," Joey said, "don't..."

  But it was too late. In Jamie's hand was a knotted ball of blonde human hair.

  Chapter 22

  Bailino parked the Ford Flex on the side of the road, across the street from Taryn's Diner. The diner, known for its homemade pies, was a favorite among locals and was busy twenty-four hours a day—even on Christmas. Especially on Christmas. Today, the large blackboard that hung in the front window read Lemon Meringue in brightly colored chalk, and patrons spilled in and out in a constant flow.

  Bailino checked his watch—11:00 a.m. He scanned the large front windows of the diner, but the sun's reflection kept him from being able to see inside, so he clicked off the ignition, silencing the rumble of the engine, and opened the car door.

  Dressed as inconspicuously as he'd allow in his gray khakis and a black T-shirt, Bailino blended in well with the other passersby, many of them upper middle-classers who'd escaped from New York City for better schools and friendlier neighbors even if it meant putting up with the harsh winters. And this past winter had been a doozy—it was only in the past few days that the remnants of the tallest bulldozed snow piles had finally melted—so it was no surprise to see people out and about on such a glorious day.

  Bailino eyed the residents who were chatting amicably while they window-shopped along the strip mall facing the diner. A young couple made their way out of a used bookshop. The young man had longish hair that reminded him of Joey, and he thought about Jamie and young Charlotte Grand being put into Joey's care and how it had irked Leo. He smiled. The couple were holding hands and stopping every few feet to embrace and cuddle. Bailino stuck his hand in his pocket, pulled out Jamie's cell phone, and turned it on. There were twenty-five missed calls and seven messages, all from the same person: Edward. Ignoring the prompt, he swiped the screen with his finger until he pulled up Jamie's photos. The first one quickly came into focus: a little boy and a girl, neither of whom had front teeth. They had their hands wrapped around each other and were mushing their faces together. Bailino pressed the right arrow, and a photo of a man appeared. The jealousy swelled within him, so much so that he had to look away for a moment. Then he examined the man's features: soft eyes, kind face. The man was posing with his arm resting on a wooden fence. Bailino hit the arrow again, and a photo of a little girl with a woman appeared, a beautiful brunette wearing patched bell-bottom jeans. The little girl was dressed in a navy-blue jumper and looked somewhat startled, as if the snapshot had been taken in midstep.

  Bailino turned the phone o
ff and replaced it back into his pocket. The front door of Taryn's opened, and two men wearing army fatigues emerged, one of them holding the door for a woman carrying a car seat. The two servicemen crossed the street, and as they passed him, he bowed his head. Their faces were hidden by their caps, but Bailino could make out the boyish innocence of their features. They haven't seen any real action, he thought. He could tell.

  Bailino thought back to when his battalion landed in Iraq for the first time, after the initial invasion during the first Gulf War—his fellow soldiers looked a lot like those two young men. The touchdown was rocky, not at all what he'd expected for a military landing in the desert, and had shaken the windowless carrier violently, but Bailino had learned to veil his fear at an early age and was sure no one on board could tell that it had been his first time on a plane. At twenty-six, Bailino had been older than many of his comrades who were fresh out of high school or college, and during the open-desert tank battles, his leadership emerged as US tanks outclassed the Iraqi forces, who were poorly supplied and operating largely without command and control from Baghdad. Only one other man in his unit had enlisted at age twenty-six, a quiet silver spooner who had just graduated from Harvard Law and whose father had insisted he join the army, war or no war, as was the tradition of the men in his family.

  At first, Bailino was suspicious of Ivy Leaguer Phillip Grand, but a mutual respect formed between them, perhaps because of their differences—Pfc. Bailino, dark skinned and tenacious, was as quick on his feet as he was in his decision making, while tall and lean Pfc. Grand, "the thinker," as he was known in the unit, was pensive and thorough. The unlikely friendship the two formed during boot camp lasted throughout their entire tour of duty. It was only after the men returned to civilian life, three years later, that their friendship was cut short abruptly by the election of Phillip Grand to the New York State Assembly.

  A black town car pulled up in front of Taryn's. The back door opened, and Governor Grand emerged. The governor ran his hands through his hair, something Bailino had seen him do countless times in crisis, and motioned for the driver to find a spot in the parking lot. It was not an unusual sight to see Phillip Grand, considered "the People's Governor," roaming around near the vicinity of Taryn's Diner without his official entourage. Every week, he met his mother for brunch, an intimate affair that both the local residents and media respected, keeping their distance. As the governor ran toward the doors of the diner, both he and Don Bailino, who followed behind, knew that this time the governor's mother would not be inside.